Ja 2 Vaṇṇūpathajātaka
The Birth Story about the Sandy Waste (1s)
Alternative Title: Vaṇṇupathajātaka (Cst)
In the present a monk gives up easily on his quest for insight. He is brought to the Buddha who points out that in an earlier life he had saved a caravan by his perseverance, and he then told the story of a caravan that became lost during the night, and was saved when a young boy followed his master’s orders and struck water.
The Bodhisatta = the caravan elder (satthavāhajeṭṭhaka),
the monk who gave up striving = the serving lad (cullūpaṭṭhāka),
the Buddha’s disciples = the rest of the cast (avasesaparisa).
Keywords: Perseverance, Effort.
“Untiring.” This discourse was delivered by the Fortunate One while he was dwelling at Sāvatthi.
About whom, you ask? About a monk who gave up persevering.
Tradition says that, while the Tathāgata was dwelling at Sāvatthi, there came to Jetavana a scion of a Sāvatthi family, who, on hearing a discourse by the Teacher, realised that sensual desires breed suffering, and was admitted to the first stage of the Saṅgha, then the higher ordination, and after five years, [The translator had a note here, full of misunderstandings, which also influenced his wrong interpretation of the text, which I have corrected above.] when he had learned two summaries and had trained himself in the methods of Insight, he obtained from the Teacher a theme for meditation which commended itself to him. Retiring to a forest, he passed there the rainy season; but for all his striving during the three months, he could not develop a glimmer or an inkling of Insight. So the thought came to him, “The Teacher said there were four types of men, and I must belong to the lowest of all; in this birth, I think, there is neither Path nor Fruit for me. What good shall I do by living in the forest? I will go back to the Teacher, and live my life beholding the glories of the Buddha’s presence and listening to his sweet teachings.” And back again to Jetavana he came.
Now his friends and intimates said: “Sir, it was you who obtained from the Teacher a theme for meditation and departed to live the solitary life of a sage. Yet here you are back again, going about enjoying fellowship. Can it be that you have won the crown of the monks’ vocation and that you will never know rebirth?” “Sirs, as I won neither Path nor Fruit, I felt myself doomed to futility, and so gave up persevering and came back.” “You have done wrong, sir, in showing a faint heart when you had devoted yourself to the Dhamma of the dauntless Teacher.
When the Teacher became aware of their coming, he said: “Monks, you bring with you this monk against his will. What has he done?” “Sir, after devoting himself to so absolutely true a Dhamma, this monk has given up persevering in the solitary life of a sage, and has come back.”
Then said the Teacher to him, “Is it true, as they say, that you, monk, have given up persevering?” “It is true, Fortunate One.” “But how comes it that, after devoting yourself to such a Dhamma, you, monk, should be the one to show yourself not a man desiring little, contented, solitary, and determined, but a man lacking perseverance? Was it not you who were so stout-hearted in bygone days? Was it not by you single-handed, thanks to your perseverance, that in a sandy desert the men and the oxen belonging to a caravan of five hundred carts got water and were cheered? And how is it that, now, you are giving in?” These words sufficed to give heart to that monk.
Hearing this talk, the monks asked the Fortunate One, saying: “Sir, the present faintheartedness of this monk is clear to us; but hidden from us is the knowledge of how, by the perseverance of this single man, the men and oxen got water in a sandy desert and were cheered. This is known only to you who are omniscient; pray tell us about it.”
“Hearken, then, monks,” said the Fortunate One; and, having excited their attention, he made clear the thing that rebirth had concealed from them.
In the past when Brahmadatta was king of Benares in Kāsi the Bodhisatta was born into a trader’s family. When he was grown up, he used to travel about trading with 500 carts. On one occasion he came to a sandy wilderness sixty leagues across, the sand of which was so fine that, when grasped, it slipped through the fingers of the closed fist. As soon as the sun got up, it grew as hot as a bed of charcoal-embers and nobody could walk upon it. Accordingly, those traversing it used to take firewood, water, oil, rice and so forth on their carts, and only travelled by night. At dawn they used to range their carts in a circle to form a coral, with an awning spread overhead, and after an early meal used to sit in the shade all the day long. When the sun went down, they had their evening meal; and, so soon as the ground became cool, they used to yoke their carts and move forward. Travelling on this desert was like voyaging over the sea; a ‘desert-pilot,’ as he was called, had to convoy them over by knowledge of the stars.
When he had only some seven more miles before him, he thought to himself, “Tonight will see us out of this sandy wilderness.” So, after they had had their supper, he ordered the wood and water to be thrown away, and yoking his carts, set out on the road. In the front cart sat the pilot upon a couch looking up to the stars in the heavens and directing the course thereby. But so long had he been without sleep that he was tired out and fell asleep, with the result that he did not mark that the oxen had turned round and were retracing their steps. All night the oxen kept on their way, but at dawn the pilot woke up, and, observing the disposition of the stars overhead, shouted out, “Turn the carts round!
Thought the Bodhisatta to himself, “If I give in, every single one will perish.” So he ranged to and fro while it was still early and cool, until he came on a clump of kusa grass. “This grass,” he thought, “can only have grown up here thanks to the presence of water underneath.” So he ordered a spade to be brought and a hole to be dug at that spot. Sixty cubits down they dug, till at that depth the spade struck on a rock, and everybody lost heart. But the Bodhisatta, feeling sure there must be water under that rock, descended into the hole and took his stand upon the rock. Stooping down, he applied his ear to it, and listened. Catching the sound of water flowing beneath, he came out and said to a serving lad, “My boy, if you give in, we shall all perish. So take heart and courage. Go down into the hole with this iron sledge-hammer, and strike the rock.”
Obedient to his master’s bidding,
When the Supreme Buddha had delivered this discourse, he, after Fully Awakening, uttered this verse:
1. Akilāsuno, vaṇṇupathe khaṇantā,
Udaṅgaṇe tattha papaṁ avinduṁ,
Evaṁ munī viriyabalūpapanno,
Akilāsu vinde hadayassa santin-ti.
Untiring, digging in a sandy place, in the open, they found drinking water, so the sage, endowed with strength of effort, untiring, finds peace right here in his heart.
This discourse ended, he preached the Four Truths, at the close whereof the fainthearted monk was established in the highest fruit of all, which is Arahatship. Having told these two stories, the Teacher established the connection linking them both together, and identified the Jātaka by saying: “This fainthearted monk of today was in those days the serving lad who, persevering, broke the rock and gave water to all the people; the Buddha’s followers were the rest of the people of the caravan; and I myself was their leader.”
last updated: August 2023